


The Fall

by TrishaCollins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adam is in hell, As hell does, Gen, It Sucks, Sam is a good big brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 03:51:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8271628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrishaCollins/pseuds/TrishaCollins
Summary: It's a long way to hell.





	

He didn't remember the fall.

A blessing, he supposed, something he didn't have to carry with him. He remembered Michael's grace ripping away from him, taking some small part of _him_ with it, leaving him cold and seared and somehow hollow.

He knew there was nothing but a thunderstorm around him, as Lucifer and Michael left them behind to to try to escape the Fall, as they turned on each other.

He didn't know how long he was lost in the waves of agony and terror, but the first thing he really became consciousness was a soft voice uttered by a mouth pressed directly against the shell of his ear, chanting a consciousness stream on nonsense that slowly, inexorably, resolved itself into a single, repeated word. "Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe."

It took another age for the fact that it was Sam's voice to penetrate his bruised, shattered mind, and another eternity after that for him to realize that his body was obeying the rhythmic command.

Their bodies were tangled together where they had fallen, the rippling sheer walls of grace that were the angels that had taken them creating a hot wind that buffeted them from time to time, peppering them with hot particles that seared more because it was _cold_ in the way that made him remember days that school had been called because the gas threatened to freeze in the school buses, and even standing outside made his nose tingle and his lungs ache.

His hands had long ago locked into their positions on Sam's arms, so long ago that the blood had dried beneath his nails and the skin had scabbed around them, but Sam showed no sign that it hurt him or that he cared, his voice remained the patient, gentle chant and his body obeyed it.

He shuddered, and tried to relax his hands, only for the muscles to cramp and scream and interrupt the regular pace of his breath for a groan.

Sam's chant broke. "Adam?" He took one of his hands in his own, rubbing the muscles until the cramp relaxed out of the hand. Then he took the other just as gently.

It felt like they were sitting in the middle of a storm, the static made Sam's hair lift from his head like a halo.

Sam shifted, not untangling their bodies, his legs were would around Sam's, his body pushed as close to him as physically possible.

"Adam?" Sam said again, gentle.

He blinked, and his eyes felt gritty and gross, dry like it had been too long since he had completed that vital action, and he tried to speak, but it only came out as a nonsensical noise that was too close to a sob for his pride.

Sam wrapped his arms around him, holding him close and making a soothing noise that made him ache for his mother, because Sam at his gentlest couldn't compare to her. Tears filled his eyes, and the salt in them irritated the dry tissue.

He made another, strangled noise that couldn't begin to compare to words.

"I got you, it's ok." Sam whispered, seemingly ignorant of the thunder around them, the flash of light on spectrums he didn't feel like he should be able to see.

"Liar." He choked out, trembling.

Sam laughed, a tired, reflexive noise that did nothing to reassure him. "Ok, got me there. Just breathe, ok."

It was the best solution he had at the moment, to make the ache in his chest fade,. The air was too hot and too cold, and seared him in all the wrong ways. His stomach ached with hunger, yearning for something to fill it, but he knew that was unlikely to happen.

He buried his face against Sam's shoulder to block out the light, because nothing could muffle the noise, and some comfort was better than no comfort.

Sam tucked his hand against the back of his head, using his taller frame to block as much of the wind as he could. "I got you."

For now.

He shuddered again, fear stealing over him again. How long before Michael's brilliance shoved him away from the front of his mind again? Did they need their vessel's now? What about the Apocalypse? What had happened?

"I got you, breathe." Sam repeated. "Just focus on now, try not to let the rest of it get in. Just breathe, Adam."

He whimpered, taking deep breathes tainted by the unfamiliar and familiar scent of Sam. How long had it been? He remembered fire and burning and then-and then.

He shuddered. The ground opening up at his feet.

"Shhh, shhh. Don't try to pull it all in at once. Just focus on now." Sam's voice was a thread, a rope, wrapping around him in layers and layers of power.

No, not power, Michael was power. Sam was something else.

He let himself be trapped by it, keeping his face hidden against Sam's shoulder, letting the tattered bits of self Michael had left behind be soothed again.


End file.
